Dark Days Ahead
by Pooka da Chao
Summary: When Remus' condition starts to worsen, a new threat may kill him. Characters reflect on the event in a conversational manner. RWHG, implied slash, and a few areas of strong language. FINISHED
1. Remus Reflects

Disclaimer: I don't own em, I only write about them because I have all these stories on my insides that make me fuzzy and I want to share them and...; Don't look at me like that.

Author's notes: Every chapter will be in another character's POV. Next up is Arthur, then Molly, Harry, Severus, George and finally Percy.

It was the summer of his sixth year. Nearly seventeen. Our boy was growing.  
  
_James...? Sirius? Do you see this? Lily, look at him. Isn't he wonderful?_  
  
It's been months since I last saw Sirius. Months and months, since I offered that warm embrace that I always did when he cried. Months and months, since I shushed him and rocked him, trying to convince him the Dementors of his dreams were just that...a part of his dreams.  
  
He never believed me.  
  
It had all felt so empty without him. For thirteen years I was without him. For thirteen years I mourned the death of the Marauders. I mourned and it was in vain, because my Sirius was innocent. MY Sirius. Yes you heard me correctly. Mine.  
  
Sometimes I feel Moony claimed Padfoot more than I claimed Sirius, but Sirius always said that we were Moony and Padfoot, even if I always separated our forms. Moony claims people. I try not to. But Moony has claimed Harry, Ron, Hermoine...the whole Weasley clan and even my school enemy, Severus.  
  
I've been staying at Grimmauld Place since he passed through the veil. Molly stops by when she has time, and Arthur always finds time to rest his weary feet after work and before family. Don't get me wrong, Arthur is very much and whole-heartedly head over heels in love with his family, Merlin bless him, but with that many people its hard to just sit quietly and have a drink or two.  
  
Molly won't let anyone else over, which saddens me. I know I should just leave. I know she'd let them visit me if I weren't here. She says that Grimmauld Place has its ghosts...and not like the one that rattles its chains in her attic. Too many shadows, she says.  
  
I think I've become one of those shadows.  
  
And it's only getting worse.  
  
It started in spring. A gloomy March, filled with frost and stillness. As the wolf would release me from his hell begotten claws, I would stare out the windows at the frost nipping at the branches of the spindly saplings. It would hang on the unfallen dead leaves, tracing magnificent patterns on the insides of the leaf. I know. When the pain is at its worst, I find staring at something, listlessly, the most amusing.  
  
I could feel the wrong down to my toes, and yet I could see nothing different from any other change. Blood trickled from self-inflicted wounds; something my subconscious pointed out wouldn't have happened if Padfoot were there. I felt another sob wrack at my sore body. Somewhere deep inside, where the wrong was, a small voice said 'Harry,' and as much as I denied it, I believed it through and through.  
  
April brought twittering birds, brighter mornings and less frost. I was thankful for the lack of ice. I always hated how the ice wheedled its way into my bones, clutching at the tenderness and expanding it.  
  
The wrongness was there again. Moreso this time. It felt so wrong. I curled into a ball, as if trying to avoid the wrongness. The evil inside me was growing and I didn't know why.  
  
And suddenly I remember.  
  
I remember my father talking to the Healers at Mungo's. I remember their soft words, as I leaned against the door trying to pull the words from mumblings.  
  
_"You know, of course, he will not have the average lifespan of a normal wizard?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"If he starts complaining of something different, bring him here immediately."  
  
"To live out his life?"  
  
"No. We cannot let them live out their remaining time."_  
  
I couldn't tell Molly. I don't want to die. You understand...don't you?


	2. The Loss

Disclaimer: Not mine. JK's. nod

Author's notes: I don't think I had time to properly depict Arthur, but I also don't feel there is time to in this chapter. I think of him as a very serious man, despite his amusing musing about muggle items. I also think he's horribly perceptive.

He is hiding something. I can feel it deep down in my bones. But I don't give away I know something is bothering him. If I do, he will become silent and cold like the rest of this damnable house.  
  
I suck an ice cube into my cheek, licking off the remaining alcohol. If I pretend nothing is wrong, so will he. Then we can sit in our uneasy silence, and eventually, he will wear out and tell me.  
  
I remember when he first told me loved Sirius...Yes. Like THAT. I can't say that I was terribly surprised. I can't say that I think it's right or wrong. As my Molly would say, 'Love is love, in all forms. Remember that and love WILL conquer all.'  
  
My Molly. She is so wonderful to me and the kids.  
  
The kids. I never had wanted a small family. Had I anticipated it being this large? No. Does that mean I am disappointed? In ways, I must admit to a yes. There are times I would love it to be just me and Molly and one or two of the rascals. Then again, I couldn't see living without every single one of them.  
  
Aren't they wonderful?  
  
His brow creases. I watch out of the very corner of my eye. Lips move to form words, but can only make the motions, losing sound along the way.  
  
"Arthur." It was quiet. I nearly didn't recognize it as my name.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"You've kept up contact with the Magical Creatures Regulations Bureau, yes?"  
  
I nod. I've had to. Remus isn't a young wizard anymore. He'd getting to the point of Loss. Loss of what? Sanity? Humanity? Life? I don't know. I still can't get that out of Dennis. I will soon.  
  
"How...How old was..." it fades like a sad lullaby.  
  
I know what he's trying to ask and it takes me minutes before I can respond, my throat dry as dust. "The oldest was..." Merlin, don't say it. Don't say it! Lie, just this once, Arthur...lie. For his sake and yours... "Forty-two."  
  
"Oh."  
  
He is nearly forty years old himself. I'm so sorry, Remus. I'm so sorry.  
  
Then I know what is bothering him. The Loss is upon him.  
  
Oh Merlin. Remus, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.  
  
I am silent as I watch him stand, and refresh his drink with trembling hands.


	3. Molly Makes Her Mark

My back is aching. My feet are swollen. I can feel the throbbing of my heart in my head, and pain like white light behind my eyes. Again I have been beset with disturbingly painful twists in my stomach.  
  
I cannot explain how I would've ever come up with this being my Utopia.  
  
Look at them. My babies. My children.  
  
_No, no,_ I chide myself, _They are adults now._ But in my heart, I know they are my babies and will always be such.  
  
No matter how much Bill starts to look like his father, or how many dragons Charlie wrangles, no matter how Percy scorns us, or how many tricks the twins will play on us, no matter how tall Ron grows or how much Ginny reminds me of younger days. They are adults. I must remind myself of this constantly, even though I cling to Ginny and Ron as if they were the tiniest bits that personify childhood.  
  
But even if those two aren't legal adults, they are growing and certainly are not children.  
  
I hate it and I love it all in the same breath. This is my life. This is my family.  
  
If you think I don't realize that sometimes they find it easy to poke fun at my maternal instincts, you've got another thing coming. I did raise six children; I tend to pick up on the silly things like that. They won't tease me directly, thinking it will anger me, when truly it only amuses me.  
  
They laugh about Harry Potter Weasley, and just recently Remus Lupin Weasley. I'm quite positive I heard Fred or George giggle about Albus Dumbledore Weasley, too.  
  
And now? Now we sit ourselves down to eat. For the first time all year, we sit down like a proper family should. Arthur sits at one end, and I at his right. There is an empty chair to his left. Nobody touches that seat. At times, I am thankful, others I am not.  
  
Percy, my baby, why do you hurt us like this? There is a place for you. There always will be.  
  
But he doesn't deserve it. The way he's treated us. Especially Harry.  
  
Bill is beside me, occasionally turning to the lovely Fleur to his right. Across from them, Fred and George huddle over their mashed potatoes, probably another absurd new product to put in their shop. Beside them Charlie glances between their conversation and the one spirited between Ron and Harry. Ginny sits between Fleur and Harry, catching tips on fashion from Fleur and the latest news of the Dursleys from Harry.  
  
And there. At the very end, with an amused smile flitting over his weary lips, Remus pushes his peas back and forth over the plate. He listens to it all. Tonight is unusual, though. He's not said a word all night. Usually, he contributes _something_.

Arthur, too, seems rather tense, jumping when I spoon more carrots onto his plate, and even letting out a strangle cry when I touch his hand. Something has passed between them. Something that gnaws at my insides like a starving dog with a bone.  
  
Remus is resigned. But when isn't he?  
  
A flicker of emerald. Harry's noticed too. He's trying to get my attention. He holds up the empty dish of potatoes and I nod. That's a good excuse.  
  
Both of us slide our chairs away simultaneously from the table, a few fake words of "Oh, Harry, don't worry about it..." "Please, let me, Mrs. Weasley." "Sit down, sit down!" "It would make me feel better if I did help..." "Oh all right..."  
  
Fred narrows his eyes. George blinks.  
  
I never give in that easily. But thankfully they are the only ones to realize what has passed between us. They have their own secrets. They always have and probably always will. Twins are like that. They are a secret to the world, which is why the world loves them so.  
  
"What's wrong with Professor Lupin and Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asks in a hurried whisper, just barely distinguishable above the clatter he makes with spoon in the pan, scraping up the last bits of potato.  
  
I shake my head warily, casting a glance over my shoulder. "Something terrible has passed between them."  
  
Harry turned his gaze, which is a beautifully naïve and wondering look he's managed to retain through the years through the Dursleys, to the two men seated opposite of one another. He nodded absently, then turned back to meet my eyes.  
  
"They will tell us, Harry, when they are ready..." I smile softly, and I see a glint in Harry's eyes. "But we may be able to pick up certain things. Now, Harry, I know Remus stays up late, and that he'll be staying here tonight. I also know the twins are quite good at 'Wake-me-up' Charms."  
  
We share a secret look before we return to our seats, Harry dutifully slopping more potatoes onto his plate.


	4. Harry's Speculation

Can you feel it, Molly? Mrs. Weasley. I think I have been around Remus and Arth- Mr. Weasley too much. I keep referring to them by their first names. But it's all in my head, right? Doesn't matter, they can't see it.  
  
It's all in my head.  
  
That's what that damnable newspaper had everyone to believe a year back. And Percy. I thought he was on my side...?  
  
See who I can trust? Who? No one. They will all betray me in the end. In some way or another. Do you see how Ron looks at Hermione? And how she looks back? They will leave me for one another one day.  
  
No...No. I'm just overreacting. This is all in my head.  
  
"Pass the potatoes, Har."  
  
"Yeah, yer hogging them."  
  
The twins' voices ring out into my head. My head. Stay out!  
  
I blink a few times, staring blankly at them. I know I look like a nutter, but I can't remember what they just said.  
  
"Should we spell it out?"  
  
"P-O-T-A-T-O-S."  
  
George bursts out laughing. "You spelled it wrong!"  
  
I pass the _potatoes_. I get what Fred meant. He's laughing at his own misspelling anyhow.  
  
I hate how carefree they are. I don't think I've ever seen them serious.  
  
Mrs. Weasley can feel the wrongness in the air like I can. So now I know what I'm supposed to do. But how? How do I do that? How do I ask him what I want to know?  
  
I can feel eyes upon me, while I push the potatoes into a neat little mountain. On top of my mountain, I place a bright orange carrot. I have to stop myself from giggling as I think the carrot hardly compares to the shade of the Weasley clan's hair.  
  
I meet the eyes staring at me. Remus sighs softly and returned his gaze to his own plate.  
  
"Professor Lupin?"  
  
"Remus."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I am not fit to be a teacher...remember?" Remus stands, collecting his plate and utensils and tapping them gently with his wand, cleaning up. A moment later, he's left the room, his plate scrubbing itself still, and we all sit in silence.  
  
"I..." I try to apologize to the new stares. I feel horrible. I didn't know that calling him that bothered him so. I didn't mean to...  
  
"Don't apologize, Harry," I hear a quiet voice tell me. "Remus just needs some time." I still don't know whose voice it is. My potatoes seem far more interesting anyhow.

* * *

Fred's version of the 'Wake-me-up' Charm is particularly strong. I feel like someone slipped me an espresso without telling me. Every time I try to sit down, sit still or stop moving for any amount of time, I develop an odd, and slightly disturbing, twitch.  
  
Remus is watching me pace the floor, as if I were an animal in a cage. Not a bad description of how I feel most of the time anyhow.  
  
Of course, it's just my luck, Snape is sitting here. He decided to stay for tea and a bit of small talk with Remus. They haven't told me to 'get out' yet, so I continue to pace. I try to look preoccupied with other thoughts, while I listen in on their conversation.  
  
"The house is always so quiet. Molly seems horribly astute to everything. Strange, isn't it?"  
  
"Not really. She has six brats to take care of. I imagine she'd have to develop some sort of woman's intuition or something to stay sane."  
  
"Severus." Remus shook his head, disapprovingly.  
  
Snape smirks into his teacup, while he sips noisily.  
  
I wish I could bash his head in right here.  
  
They don't talk about anything interesting for the rest of the evening. Forced small talk. And all of it painful to listen to.  
  
"Harry?" The word makes me jump half out of my skin. I look at Professor Lupin. (Oh right, _now_ I start calling him by that name.)  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You want to talk to me?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"I assume that is why you were so eager to get Fred...or was it George?...to cast the Wake-me-up Charm on you. You've been flittering around like a hummingbird all evening."  
  
"I wanted to..." Why didn't Mrs. Weasley ask the twins to do this? Or Ginny? Or Bill or Charlie? Even Ron would be better at wording this than I am. "I wanted to..."  
  
Remus looks at me expectantly.  
  
"...Make sure you were all right..." I let it trail off at his amused smirk. I know he thinks I'm a bit of a fool, but its times like these I relish. Why? Because I can see a bit of reminiscing touching the sparkle of his eye. I remind him of my father. I know that. I know I said I don't want that, but maybe I do? Maybe I want to be considered the one in control for once. This life is hectic as is. "I didn't mean to offend you at dinner."  
  
"You didn't."  
  
"It seemed like I did."  
  
"No. There is much going on, and I think it is my place to apologize to you. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."  
  
_That_ was his temper? Merlin. That's just...Never mind.  
  
"Are you angry with me, Harry?"  
  
"No. I was worried." I glance over my shoulder, I don't want to say what I'm about to say with anyone else around. "You're the last person I have left, Prof- Remus."  
  
His eyes widen.  
  
Stupid, Harry. Really stupid.  
  
He sets down his teacup, still staring at me. "Do you really believe that?"  
  
"You're the last one left who...who was close to them." We all know who 'them' is.  
  
Remus stands and walks towards me. I think I've uncured the wrath of the 'we all love you, Harry' lecture. Damn me. I sigh softly, studying the carpeting. What nice carpeting it is too. Have you ever wondered about how they get each little fiber to stay like that? What keeps it from unraveling?  
  
I'm surprised when I feel Remus hug me. Slowly, I regain my composure and return the embrace. Uncomfortable much? Slightly.  
  
"You're the last I have left too, Harry. I know that everyone tries to become like family. In fact they are. But...but you're the last one left I have real connection with. D'you understand?"  
  
I nod. I do. I also am feeling pretty silly about the tears touching on my eyes. If I don't blink, they won't fall.  
  
Remus pulls away suddenly, leaving me to soak up the tears that cling to my eyelashes, while he makes his way out of the door. I know he's crying, I can hear it in his voice when he murmurs a soft, "I'm sorry, Harry. I really am." Then he is gone and I am left to my tears and speculations. 


	5. Severus Softens

Disclaimer: b/c I have done one for a chapter or two...These character belong to JK Rowling, the once and future HP Queen.

Author's notes: Thank'ee to all the reviewers who have been kind and whatnot. Especially those three that have repeatedly reviewed! You make my day a bit brighter...and I want to thank you for your patience with this story. I've been a bit overwhelmed of late and trying to write this isn't easy.

I don't like the Potter boy. I don't try to make a point that I do. Well...Now that I've stated the obvious, I suppose I should get on with what really matters.  
  
That's why you're reading, yes?  
  
You want to know what happens to poor little Lupin and his lycanthropy.  
  
It's a damn miracle that the man's lasted this long. He looked how he should now back in Hogwarts, even as a first year. How he looks now? It is a look worthy of a much older man.  
  
Even I feel unnecessary amounts of pity for him.  
  
Who wouldn't?  
  
Don't get me wrong. I don't like him, but he certainly is the pitiful sort.  
  
Really? It's been months since I watch Potter pace the floor, while pretending to be in good company, as Lupin kept making rather pathetic attempts at small-talk. He's always been rather uncomfortable when no one is talking. I blame the influence of Sirius. That damned man couldn't keep his mouth shut if you bound it that way.  
  
To tell the truth, I'm not really that upset he's gone. Potter and Lupin are better off for it.  
  
I remember watching the boy out of the corner of my eye, gauging when would be the best time to spring a rather surprising comment on them both. I love making them both flustered. Especially when it's so easy.  
  
But alas, I finally found myself nodding off into a hardly lukewarm cup of tea, and firmly decided on returning at a later date, to find out what had Lupin in a tizzy and Potter flitting around the room like a pixie with a high metabolism. Really, that last thought scares me.  
  
So here it is, the 'later date.' August, beginnings of autumn are fluttering through the air. My favorite season...besides the fact that one of the worst possible things happens every year at this time: the beginning of school.  
  
Have I ever told you my thoughts on Dumbledore? He's a nutter. Through and through. Worthy of my trust, yes, but truly only half there.  
  
Well, I am supposed to be organizing and cataloguing my potions items back at Hogwarts. Oh no, because I mention that I need a few items, Dumbledore insists that I need to accompany Potter and Lupin to Diagon Alley.  
  
The way that Potter keeps watching Lupin is frightening. As if the boy thought the man was made of glass. Not that he doesn't look it: Lupin's eyes are deeply shadowed and horribly bloodshot, his sallow skin makes mine look 'California healthy,' not to mention the tremor.  
  
In Flourish and Blott's, Lupin couldn't even pick up a book. If Potter hadn't been there to pick it up and comfort him, I would've sworn the man would've cried. I wonder if he can read at all, with the way he keeps squinting at everything.  
  
It's a miracle that Lupin can even walk, even now, as we shuffle down the alley, I wonder on this. Potter holds the man's arm like he's ready for a stumble or a fall at any time. I think I even heard a witch say how it was so nice to see a young man helping his grandfather. I want to tell her that this man is actually the same age his father should've been.  
  
Arthur told me the Loss was upon Lupin. Lupin's Loss. This shouldn't affect me. I should even be a bit elated to know my tormentors from Hogwarts have all finally gotten what's coming.  
  
So why do I keep getting a lump in my throat when Lupin does his best to reassure my frighten looks with a smile? He should be fighting more. He seems like he's already given up. He's so resigned to this fate. I want to scream at him to fight this off. Please, Lupin...Remus. For the old days' sake. For Potter, or Black...or anyone.  
  
Potter stops while Remus totters off to greet Granger and Weasley. "He's getting worse every day," the boy murmurs in a thick voice.  
  
I watch as Remus winces at the enthusiastic hug Hermione engulfs him in. Ron pulls her away, their hands meeting in such a way that I know how the summer has transformed their relationship. I realize that must also be why Potter stands beside me and doesn't run off to greet them. Remus wraps his arms around the two and declares something about ice cream. No doubt he'll want chocolate.


	6. George's Stranger

I stare at Fred as he puts his shorts on, quietly making note to cut my hair...it's getting long in the back. Fred finally turns his eyes on me, probably wondering why I'm staring in the first place.  
  
It used to be that we'd stare at one another for hours on end. We were fascinated by one another. That is to say, we still are, but in a more discreet manner.  
  
"What're you thinking, Georgey?" Fred asks quietly.  
  
He probably knows, but he'll always ask. "Remus is dying, Fred."  
  
"Yeah." Fred seems to find increasing interest in the floor.  
  
I pat the bed and he obligingly sits down on the edge, bowing his head, never once looking up at me. I wrap my arms around him and just hold him.  
  
We watched them today. They came into our shop and sat there with chocolate ice cream cones. Harry was watching Remus, occasionally cleaning him up, to which Remus would always protest, "You're wasting good chocolate, Harry! I must not have taught you as well as I'd thought."  
  
Harry would get this sad little smile. Even if they wouldn't tell us what was wrong we could see it. We could see our favorite mentor withering before our eyes. We could see the last of Harry's family dying.  
  
Don't get us wrong, we love the boy to pieces...but Remus is his true family.  
  
I don't know why I'm surprised when a sob shakes at Fred, and he finally looks up at me. His fingers brush across my cheek, pulling away tears I didn't even realize were existent. He shows me that singular bead of water, holding it in the crease of his fingers. I nod, knowing he's telling me that I'm crying too.  
  
I can't stand it. I bury my face in Fred's shoulder, and he just holds me, while his tears fall onto my skin.  
  
Snape stayed after the rest of them had left, even watching disgustedly as Ron bounced off, Hermione hanging onto his hand. I'm sure it was that he realized that they hadn't seen the last bits of Remus fading, and not that they were together. (Fred would take this time to say, "FINALLY!" So I'll put that in for him.)  
  
"The Loss is upon him," Snape said so suddenly that we both jumped. He was staring out the window at Professor Lupin. Hunched over as he was, Remus still managed to point out Quality Quidditch Supplies to Harry, who despite looking horribly interested in the latest broom, hung onto the lycanthrope.  
  
"What's the Loss?" Fred asked quietly. I wait for an answer, silently.  
  
"The beginning of the end." Snape is mute for several minutes, as we both struggle with something to say. Anything. We come up with nothing. He gives us a nod of acknowledgement and disappears out the door in a flourish of dark flowing robes. (I'd never admit it aloud, but I've always found this rather interesting. And slightly hypnotic.)

* * *

The morning is cold; the kind when snuggling deeper into the covers seems to be the best idea of the day. I realize why I've waken. Fred had just gotten up. We must've fallen asleep in the same bed after our teary- eyed session.  
  
I can feel him watching me. I keep my eyes nearly closed, knowing he'd sooner make sure all his morning chores are done before waking me. I would do the same.  
  
Instead, I feel him sit back on the bed, tugging the covers over me, tucking me in like Mum used to do. He doesn't leave when he finishes. He just sits there.  
  
His voice comes thick, and I realize he knows I'm awake. "George. I want to find out what the Loss is."  
  
"Today?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"We're in the middle of one of biggest customer weeks."  
  
"We can..." he starts to protest.  
  
"Go take a shower, you big idiot. I never said we couldn't."  
  
Fred looks back at me, grinning. "Is that supposed to be an insult to my smell?"  
  
"Yes." I'm grinning now. "You reek."  
  
He pushes me off the bed, and disappears into the adjoining bathroom. I hear the water running as I struggle out of the tangle of blankets, trying to keep my shorts on as I do so. I eventually lose the battle, and my shorts, as I stumble out of the nest of covers and decide to just grab another pair, while putting the lost pair to the in the hamper.

* * *

I take a deep breath, and immediately regret it as I sneeze violently. The dust seems to surround me mockingly, as if daring me to breathe more of it in. Fred snickers at me, reminding me in a soft voice, "Don't you know by now not to inhale?"  
  
"Oh shut it," I chuckled at myself and give him a shove.  
  
He runs up the stairs, towards the 'Defense Against the Dark Arts and Dark Creatures' section. I follow obligingly, nearly trampling a little witch in the process. I offer a grin and an apology, but she looks in the other direction.  
  
I imitate her for Fred, while he stands at the top of the stairs. He offers a hearty laugh and returns that shove from mere moments ago when I reach him. I stumble into the 'Creatures' section and immediately start scanning the titles.  
  
I have no clue what I'm looking for.  
  
Fred motions towards the aisle beside the one I'm in and I nod. I turn back to scan, still completely oblivious as to what I should be searching for.  
  
I squint at one title in particular, unable to read it. "It's in Russian," a voice behind me says.  
  
"Oh." I shrug and turn, realizing I should be looking down.  
  
The man who spoke is nearly my height. Quite a feat, Fred and I aren't short. He stares back at me, whilst leaning against the opposite shelf. I'm guessing I'm in his way and I make a motion to move. He shakes his head, grinning, "I was wondering if you needed help."  
  
"Oh you work here?" I ask, deciding firmly I've never seen this man here before.  
  
"No. I have this section memorized though."  
  
"Um." Odd? A bit.  
  
He gives a shake of his head, dark hair reflecting the light in ginger strands. Now's the time I decide he must have a redhead in the family, having inherited sheen of one in his dark hair. Then I decide he finds me horribly amusing. He doesn't seem to dispute this idea by laughing at me. (Aren't I supposed to be the one laughing?)  
  
"The name's Theodore Nnn...Er...well. Just call me Theo." He reaches out a hand and I grasp it, though he interrupts my introduction with, "You're George Weasley."  
  
The only thing that comes to mind is the shop. I grin and nod. "Heard of Weasley Wizard Wheezes?"  
  
"Who hasn't? I know you from school."  
  
Suddenly I feel a sinking feeling in my belly. I should know him then? I don't remember any Theos.  
  
"I'm in Harry's grade...and a different House."  
  
"Oh..." I sigh, relieved, taking a moment to start breathing again.  
  
"So, you need help? What're you looking for?"  
  
"Lycanthropy."  
  
"That's an awful serious subject." He doesn't seem surprised. Instead he reaches over my head and grabs a furry book. This he places in my hands, followed by a thinner book with a drawing of a man turning into a wolf on the front. "Those are the best two here."  
  
"Thank you." I shift the books under my arm. He said 'here.' Meaning there's another place to find books, with possibly more information.  
  
"Your shop's just around the corner, right?"  
  
I nod.  
  
"All right. It was nice to finally speak with you, George." He offers his hand again, I grasp it obligingly. "I'll see you around."  
  
I start to protest, interrupted as someone pulls the books from my lax arm. I try to grab them back, and turn to confront my mirror image. "Who was that?" Fred asks, giving the books one final tug.  
  
I let him have the books, stepping from the aisle to see if the other had left. "Theo Something-or-Other. I dunno. He wouldn't tell me his last name."  
  
"That's always a good sign."  
  
"Hm. But he said those were the best books here about lycanthropy."  
  
"Well then...A bit of light bedtime reading. Shall we?" He makes a motion with his arm, indicating both paying and leaving at the same time.

Author's notes: Odd having them at the bottom of the page... I mean, um, so survey, who wants more George? I'm diving off into a subplot because I'm odd like that, and all this sadness is making me depressed. (I worry about how you are fairing, if its affecting me!) Anywho. I was either going to go from Theo's point of view (if you know who this char is, and yes, he's from the books, don't give it away) or from Fred's, any preferences?


	7. Fred's Fight

Disclaimer: All characters, places and whatnot, property of JK. You know that, silly.

Author's notes: Not exactly as light-hearted as George's, but I think I'll do the next from Theo's point of view, before I continue with the rest of the story. Finish up this little subplot so you realize what's actually drifting through my head. Plus, I figure this is the easy way of explaining what Remus is going through, with a bit of fun.

_The Loss: Etymology: Middle English los, probably back-formation from lost, past participle of losen to lose Ruin; Destruction 2 a : the act of losing possession b : the harm or privation resulting from loss or separation c : an instance of losing  
  
3 : a person or thing or an amount that is lost: as a plural : killed, wounded, or captured soldiers b : the power diminution of a circuit or circuit element corresponding to conversion of electrical energy into heat by resistance  
  
4 a : failure to gain, win, obtain, or utilize b : an amount by which the cost of an article or service exceeds the selling price  
  
5 : decrease in amount, magnitude, or degree  
  
6 : the amount of an insured's financial detriment by death or damage that the insurer becomes liable for  
  
- at a loss : UNCERTAIN, PUZZLED  
  
- for a loss : into a state of distress _

_7 : Referring to the final stages of Lycanthropy_

_The final stages of Lycanthropy_, as defined by Newt Scamander, _are as follows: Lowered blood pressure, failing of eyesight and an upset equilibrium. Bones become brittle and sufferers often report aching and 'wrongness' in their bodies. The last stage, final to them all, is the Final._  
  
I glare at the book. All this about the Loss, and it turns out it's only a stage. So what are all the stages? So far I've found out about these six: the Bite, the First, Waking (this lasts the longest, usually decades at a time), Aging, Loss and the Final.  
  
I've only found one thing about the Final. From what I understand of the scrawling, it's the last transformation that a lycanthrope ever goes through.  
  
Sobering, isn't it?  
  
George interrupts my thoughts as he runs into the room, an excited grin curling his lips and flushed cheeks. I realize his arms are full of rather large and decrepit, leather bound books.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"That guy, the one from Flourish and Blott's, he just owled them over. He said that we could use them. They apparently have a lot about werewolves in here...Did you know there are more than just were/wolves? There are were-cats, and were-hyenas and..."  
  
"How is this relevant?" I ask. Best to interrupt him early on.  
  
"Oh...Um. It really isn't. But this book..." he shoves the top book towards me, "has the largest section on the Loss and the Final. A whole chapter for both. This one..." He puts the second one in front of me, "is more about the Dark Arts, but there's a few sections marked off about lycanthropy. And finally," he plops the last book down. Its hard to believe those three books filled his arms, but considering the size of them, actually I'm not too surprised. "This one has more on the changes of a lycanthrope, and is more theoretical, but it does have some firm science in..."  
  
He's finally realized I've been watching him instead of the books. I feel like I don't know him. 'Dark Arts?' There was a time he wouldn't even touch anything /rumored/ to be dark in nature.  
  
"What?" He blinks a few times, completely confused.  
  
"That book is about Dark Arts, George."  
  
"I know."  
  
"But...Who is this Theo guy? What reason has he given you, anyway, to trust him?"  
  
"What?" This was said in a slightly more high pitched voice, as if I'd something incredibly stupid, like I'd just eaten the sun.  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"He's just a friend. Listen, I know we can trust him."  
  
"He said he was from another House."  
  
"So?"  
  
"What House, George?"  
  
"That doesn't matter."  
  
"What House, George?"  
  
"Leave off it, Fred."  
  
"George."  
  
"Fred."  
  
He gives me a nasty look. I return it.  
  
"Slytherin."  
  
I shake my head, incredulous. My brother, my twin, the one who used to climb into bed with because of a thunderstorm, or because the dark was scaring him...hanging around a Slytherin?  
  
"Houses don't matter anymore, Fred. At least they shouldn't. I can't believe you're still stuck on that. I'd thought you'd mature just a bit since then."  
  
"They do right now. Any day, at any time, You-Know-Who could..."  
  
"That has nothing to do with Theo."  
  
"Maybe it does. Who is his father?"  
  
"Once again, taking the relevant..."  
  
"George."  
  
"Nott."  
  
"Merlin's beard!" I know I'm overreacting. He knows it too. But we both go along with it. I shove all the books to one side and storm out of the room.  
  
I wait outside the door, off to one side. I expect him to follow, if I stay here, he's least likely to see me. I don't want to talk to him. But then? He surprises me again. I hear him sit down and begin rifling through the pages. He's turning them too fervently. Trying to make noise.  
  
The heave of breath between pages catches me off guard. Was I really that horribly cruel that I made my brother cry?  
  
Silently, as I could manage, I slipped from the room, the store, the alley.  
  
What had I done?

* * *

Remus is wrapped in a multitude of blankets, though the house is sweltering. Worst off, he's shaking. And pale. And...Merlin, if I look at him any longer I'm going to have a decent run of tears myself. Everyone else seems to have already.  
  
Except George.  
  
Remus keeps looking between us strangely. Squinting as he usually does, even behind those glasses Harry got for him. He's long since lost the sight necessary for the glasses to be remotely helpful.  
  
If I look away...If I look away, he might fade out of existence.  
  
He looks like nothing if not a bundle of bones forced under too small a bit of skin.  
  
"Fred? George?" His first words to us today. He seems confused.  
  
"Yes, Professor?" we ask simultaneously, and then turn to glare at one another simultaneously.  
  
"They aren't standing together as they usually do, are they Harry?" He turns to the dark haired boy at his right.  
  
Harry pushes his glasses up on his nose, staring at us for a moment before speaking. "No, Remus, they aren't."  
  
"Oh. I thought my eyes were getting worse at a more rapid rate."  
  
Harry shakes his head.  
  
I look up at George.  
  
He looks at me.  
  
Cheeks redden.  
  
A silent apology, and I extend an arm towards my brother, my twin, my everything, and he does the same. Fingers touch, curling onto one another. The familiar warmth of my brother's hand. Suddenly, at least one thing is right again.  
  
"That's better," Remus croaks the announcement, completely ruining the mysticism of the moment. Harry laughs.  
  
George and I can only smirk, because we're the only ones who know what actually passed between us.  
  


* * *

"So you're fine with it?" George asks for nearly the hundredth (excuse my exaggeration, its closer to the third) time tonight.  
  
I smile and nod, throwing another chocolate frog at him. He catches it and tears open the packaging.  
  
So what was I fine with? I was fine with the idea that maybe George might have interests outside of me. I knew I did. I also realized how hard it had been for George when I had shouted that at him fourth year. It was like losing a piece of myself.  
  
Yet I feel like I know him better for it.  
  
I watch him as he tracks the movements of his frog, waiting for it to finish its jump. Once it stills into a solid bit of chocolate, George pounces and stuffs it in his mouth.  
  
I laugh and roll my eyes, mockingly asking, "Do you do that for your Theo-boy too?"  
  
George snorts and tackles me to the floor. "Of course not! That's a sight only a certain brother of mine is privy to."  
  
I wrap my legs around his waist and flip him. "Aw...now I feel all warm and fuzzy inside!"  
  
He twists awkwardly and pushes down on my shoulder, nearly freeing himself. An arm is curled behind my own, pinning me face down. "You sure it wasn't something you ate?"  
  
I wiggle, finding myself almost completely immobile. "Possibly." I manage to twist in such a way that I can hit the ground twice with the palm of my hand.  
  
George releases me and relaxes, leaning against the wall. He watches me a moment, silent.  
  
"Did you want a cigarette?"  
  
The question catches him off-guard and he snorts a bit of laughter. I know we should get back to our studying about the Final and whatnot (we know what the Loss is now...it's the Final that worries us), but I think we'll stay like this a bit longer. Banter flows free between us now and I settle my head on my brother's thigh, his fingers tangling in my hair. I think we deserve a bit of time to just be together. 


	8. The Runaway

Disclaimer: JK's. Not mine. Story mine. Characters hers. So are places. Mmyeah.

Author's notes: Look! French! Ahaha! Sorry. Um. I actually heh forgot whether Lucius was sent to Azkaban or anything like that...Someone told me he was in the fifth book. Its been a while since i read it. Sorry if he was. If he wasn't...Enjoy the FRENCH! Ahaha! (giggle Theo's middle name is Andrew)

"Where are they?" That's what I hear. It doesn't matter what I hear anymore. I don't care.  
  
"Well...?" he draws out the 'e'. I'm not impressed. And I'm not going to tell. That will just lead to another hissy fit.  
  
"Je ne sais pas, Grandpapa."  
  
"Don't you dare, Theo."  
  
"Quoi?"  
  
"You know exactly what. THEODORE ANDREW NOTT! I WILL NOT BE COAXED BY...!"  
  
I love the Malfoys. They have impeccable timing.  
  
The house elf sent to notify us of their arrival stares at his feet after his announcement.  
  
"Is the parlor clean?"  
  
"Yezzir."  
  
"Send them there. Theo and I will be in in a moment." He waves off the creature with a flicker of his hand and points up the winding staircase, implying I need to change. It doesn't matter if I do or not, Draco and I will end up doing the same thing we do every time he visits.  
  
Obligingly I change to my white and silver dress robes, and return back to my grandfather, who is busily checking his own matching black and white robes. It used to be that Mum, Da and I would all have matching white and silver. Those are our family colors, mind. The ones on our shield and everything.  
  
Of course, Da's in Az-a-a...Merlin. I can't say it. Still. That's a weakness. I usually fall into a coughing fit or sneezing fit whenever I need to say it. I think people have realized that I can't. I'm glad they don't say anything.  
  
What about my mum? What about your mum? Keep your stupid questions to yourself. Maybe I might tell you.  
  
As we enter the room, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy stand, Draco getting up only a moment later. He always loves to get on people's nerves. I can't wait to see the day it comes back to bite him.  
  
I motion for Draco to follow me and he yawns. I turn and walk away. He'll follow.  
  
As I'm halfway to the garden, I hear a voice behind me. "What do you want, Theo? Father came to discuss...a few sensitive subjects with your grandfather, and I'm rather curious."  
  
"Then go back there. You're not on a leash or anything."  
  
"Fine." But he doesn't move. He just stands there staring at my back.  
  
I decide this is boring and cross the wooden floor, brushing out through the French doors.  
  
He follows. Good little puppy, isn't he?  
  
"Stop flaunting yourself, Nott. I already know how easy you are."  
  
"Flaunting, Malfoy?" I turn to glare at him. "And _you_ certainly wouldn't know anything about _flaunting_ yourself, would you?"  
  
"At least I'm not half as easy as you are."  
  
"Someday you'll top, Malfoy. Don't worry."  
  
"Shut it, Nott."  
  
"That's what I get for being supportive of your dreams, your hopes, your asp..."  
  
"Nott, if you don't fucking..."  
  
I giggle. I can't help it. Malfoy is a neat foot and a half shorter than me.  
  
"What now?" he groans.  
  
"Oh nothing." I pat his cheek with a grin. "Just imagining how you'll always have to look up to me."  
  
"Believe me. It's not by choice."  
  
"Aw...you don't like me that much. Is that it?"  
  
"I don't like you at all, Nott."  
  
"Really now, we've grown up with one another. Isn't it about time we started using our given names?"  
  
"You wouldn't call me 'Draco' if your life depended on it."  
  
"And how do you know that?"  
  
"You call me 'Malfoy' even when you're o..."  
  
I clap my hand to his mouth, smiling sweetly to his father, mother and my grandfather, who have decided to join us.  
  
Lucius raises an eyebrow.  
  
I lower my hand. Draco won't say anything as long as his father is around.  
  
"Oui, Grandpapa?" I ask quietly.  
  
"We have some issues we need to discuss with you, Theodore."  
  
"Oui, Grandpapa?"  
  
"Draco, the house elves will show you and your mother around the house."  
  
Damnit. Maybe I shouldn't have given those books to George.  
  
Mrs. Malfoy and Draco are led away, Draco staring at me like he hasn't seen me before.  
  
Mr. Malfoy and my grandfather stare at me.  
  
"He is usually rather well-behaved...is he not?" Mr. Malfoy asks.  
  
"Usually. Theodore. Tell Mr. Malfoy what you've done with the books."  
  
"Je ne sais pas, Monsieur Malfoy."  
  
"He's lying," Malfoy drawls.  
  
"He won't tell," Grandpapa hisses.  
  
"Veritaserum."  
  
"Adieu."  
  
"What?" Grandfather turns in time to see me apparate. Mr. Malfoy looks positively stunned.  
  
Did they really think I'd sit around and let them probe my mind with truth serum?

* * *

I feel sick. Something isn't right.  
  
My white robes are no longer their lovely white. They've become less white and more gray. The silver and white trim seems odd Misshapen somehow. I stare and it still doesn't make sense.  
  
The sick feeling rises in my throat again.  
  
Splinched.  
  
I go over the basics.  
  
Who am I? I am Theodore Nott.  
  
How old am I? Nearly seventeen.  
  
Where do I go to school? Hogwarts.  
  
What house am I in? Slytherin.  
  
I close my eyes. Something is wrong. I can't place it.  
  
I can't even place myself. Where am I?

* * *

"Shush, Fred."  
  
George?  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just let him sleep."  
  
"He's been sleeping for the better part of three days."  
  
Three days?!  
  
Suddenly the blankets around me become tighter, closing their warmth around me. I open my eyes unwillingly. Bodily reaction to waking up.  
  
"See, you woke him up!" George growls to Fred. All I see is the bright orange hair, his body turned awkwardly to regard the brother. He's sitting on the edge of the bed.  
  
I wiggle one hand free and touch George. "It's all right," I croak.  
  
He turns back to me with wide, worried eyes.  
  
"Really."  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
How was I feeling? My throat was raw, the blankets are frankly making me hotter than hell and George is half sitting on me. "I feel great." Strangely enough, I'm not lying.  
  
A smile curls weary lips and he leans down to kiss me on the forehead. Only a year ago, I would've yelped and tried to stop him. Strange how Draco changes people, eh?  
  
Of course, a year ago I would've also hated George for the mere fact that he's a Weasley, and here it is that I'm helping him. Subsequently, I'm helping the same people who imprisoned my father.  
  
I hope they get my grandfather next.


	9. Hermione's Story

Disclaimer: Characters are JK's. Except Peter Pan and Tootles, who belong to the genius and ever-child J.M. Barrie.

Author's notes: I finally got to incorporate one of my favorite books outside of the Harry Potter series. Peter Pan. You should all definitely check it out. It won't take you long either, only took me a few hours. All the information I put in here about Peter Pan, except the part about the wizarding community, is real. Um. I'm also going to apologize for not updating as quickly as I usually do, my muse took a holiday and got ran over by a bus and then ate some poisonous berries and...(this is just a joke, I've been feeling uninspired). But anyway. Read Peter Pan. Enjoy this chapter. And know this chapter actually _does_ have some relevence.

Life's funny. One minute, you're completely ignorant to everything, and the next you're scrambling to get whatever information you can get your hands on. I didn't want to be left behind when I first got accepted to Hogwarts. I wasn't. In fact, I was almost immediately at the top of my class.  
  
Which isn't to say I wasn't at the top of my class before Hogwarts.  
  
Anyway, I didn't get here by standing around and looking stupid, like Harry and Ron seem to think is best.  
  
Studying. That's how I got here! I'll be damned if I find a day that wouldn't be better without the knowledge instilled in the pages of those old books.  
  
Of course...Professor Lupin never really studied too deep into his condition. If he had, we could've known what was going to happen. (Maybe not, but that's what I keep telling myself.)  
  
So, here are his Final days, right? And I sit here reading to him everyday, pretending there aren't tears drizzling down my cheeks like the rain on the windows. Occasionally, I find myself snuffling softly. I keep telling him its allergies, but I know he doesn't believe me.  
  
Again I find myself here. The rain hasn't stopped for two days straight. I keep musing that the angels themselves cry for Remus Lupin. The pounding of the droplets on the roof makes me think of tap-dancing pixies and I have to smile, thinking of second year and _Professor_ Lockhart's pixie-problems.  
  
Professor Lupin tracks my movements, though he's nearly entirely blind at this point. Sometimes I think he follows me by ear and not by sight. I wouldn't be surprised; I've never been pegged as quiet and graceful in my movements.  
  
"Hallo Hermione," he greets me amicably.  
  
"Hallo Professor." I adjust my skirt, crossing my ankles and tucking them behind one leg of the chair. Settling the great tome in my lap, I flip through the pages, looking for exactly the right one. "Ready for another bit of the story?" I force myself to say with a smile. A smile he can't see.  
  
He nods and his lips curl gracefully. He has such a lovely smile. It reminds me quite a bit of Harry's, so full of pain, but they both smile. Admittedly, Harry had his childish moments, something I doubt Professor Lupin ever had, but he always manages to come out of everything with at least a hint of a smile.  
  
How is it they can smile? Why? It isn't fair. It shouldn't be like this. They shouldn't have to suffer. _We _shouldn't have to suffer watching them like this.  
  
My voice starts out shakily, "'_By two bells that morning they were all stirring their stumps; for there was a big sea running; and Tootles, the bo'sun, was among them, with a rope's end in his hand and chewing tobacco. They all donned pirate clothes cut off at the knee, shaved smartly, and tumbled up, with the true nautical roll and hitching their trousers_.'"  
  
"Do you know, Hermione-" Professor Lupin interrupts me, "There is a theory that Peter Pan was actually the Grim Reaper. All the Lost Boys were apparently based off boys who had died, disappeared or runaway in his neighborhood."  
  
"Hm...Yes, I believe I heard a theory like that once. I also heard the name Wendy was made up specifically for this story, all because of a little girl's mispronunciation of the word 'friendly.' Margaret...Maragret..."  
  
"Henley!"  
  
It is always like this. We have never gotten very far with any of the books on most days. We just compare facts about the stories or related stories and legends.  
  
"There is a Peter Pan like figure in much of Wizard mythology too. Rather thought of like the Grim," Remus says nodding.  
  
"Really? Will you tell me? Please?" I'm never one to skimp when it comes to finding out more on a subject. You must all know this by now.  
  
"Well. They say children, who are young, are known to see a boy who can fly in the place of the Grim. Of course, sometimes Pan is substituted for the Grim in adults' cases, and I have a theory that-"  
  
"You believe this?"  
  
"Yes, I've seen enough to know, one shouldn't doubt Old Wives' tales all the time. As I was saying, I have a theory that the elder wizards and witches who see Pan-" Have you noticed he doesn't call him Peter? I'll giggle about that later. "-are actually people who didn't, or couldn't, have a happy and or fulfilled childhood."  
  
"Who is this 'they' you keep speaking of?"  
  
"Well, some of this is recorded in..." He's in his element. I can see it. Look how his eyes light up, his lips curving ever so lightly, he even looks younger. Younger. Was he hinting at something with Peter Pan?


	10. Percy's Assignment

Disclaimer: Jo owns it all. I em jus' uh poor ficcy writer. xD

Author's notes: k. I know, I haven't been writing lately. I just kept trying to write it from Ron's POV, and it wasn't happening. So I tried again, in Percy's POV. Guess what? My muse has returned.

Refers to my other fic, Chimeric Idol. Mostly just one chapter, Ridgeline Rager...the only decent part of that story imo.

* * *

It is my job. My duty. My responsibility.  
  
I must find them.  
  
I must fool them.  
  
I must make them believe...the old Percy is back.  
  
Somehow my reflection refuses to agree with this, eyeing me with such distaste, from my glasses to my flaming red hair and splatter of freckles. The one time I am messy, in the mornings when no one can see me. My pyjamas are rumpled, my hair is diving off into every direction (my subconscious reminding me, in such a fashion as is not kind at all, of Harry Potter), and my bedcovers are askew. And all the time I am completely entranced with myself. My reflection.  
  
My reflection is me, but is it really? I never liked magicked mirrors. How they would always chide you about certain things. So I have a muggle mirror. And he doesn't chide me about getting to work on time, or eating my breakfast, or remembering to comb my hair just right. He just stares at me with the same disapproving look that I am giving him.  
  
Today is the day. Today is the day that I return. Today is the day that I return to the Burrow.  
  
I hate today already.  
  


* * *

I shift my bag uncomfortably under the gazes of my brothers. They glare at me. I stare at the floor.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Fred demands.  
  
"You don't belong here," George growls.  
  
A disapproving cluck sounds from behind them. "Now, now...If Percy says he's back for good, I think we can trust him..."  
  
My heart twists in knots. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I realise I've almost said it aloud and I quickly bite my tongue, substituting my small noise of pain with a loud sniffle. I drag the back of my hand across my eyes, undoubtedly making them redder.  
  
I've mussed my hair a bit. I've cracked the lens in front of my left eye. My eyes are red from rubbing them, not crying, as I am trying to make it look. My clothing is intentionally wrinkled and untidy. I feel utterly disgusting. I know it's necessary.  
  
"I say we kick him back out on his arse."  
  
"With the way he betrayed Harry...the way he betrayed US."  
  
"No. He is your brother and you will respect that he made a decision and a mistake." This from Mother. She finally stands, having fallen to her current seat when I arrived looking as disheveled as I do. She moves around the table, pushing the twins out of the way, to their disapproval. They always were able to catch onto an act better than anyone...but I suppose it's from doing such so much.  
  
She puts her hands on my cheeks, holding my face, pulling my eyes level with hers. I remember the first year back from Hogwarts that I realized I was taller than her. This rather gleeful memory is pushed to the back of my mind. I bite down on my lower lip, again letting my eyes fill with crocodile tears.  
  
"Oh..." she croons softly, pulling me into her soft form. "My baby...My Percy. You've come home..."

* * *

I don't know where I am. I only know I am severely disturbed. Already, I've seen a troll's foot (contraband since 1989), a collection of house elf heads (illegal as far as I know), and a portrait that everyone else just dismisses as 'Mrs. Black.'  
  
I have yet to see the quarry.  
  
I am watching Harry and Ron play chess. We all know from the start that Ron will win. He's still the best wizarding chess player I know.  
  
"All right, Remus...Shhh..." I hear this from the door and perk up, turning abruptly.  
  
Bill and Charlie are holding my old teacher, carrying him, wrapped in a blanket and looking positively worse than I do. I can feel my eyes widen with shock. Behind the small group, Mother murmurs comforting words to Lupin. Slowly, carefully they place him next to me.  
  
He reeks of sickness, of dying. I want to vomit. I want to leave.  
  
I want to cry. For real.  
  
He moves like he can barely stand to. "P-percy?" he questions softly, tilting his head to one side, looking far more canid than I feel he has any right to.  
  
I nod, and realize that Bill is making small movements and turn my gaze upon him, then quickly back to Lupin. He's blind. I lift a hand and wave it, testing. He has no reaction. "Yes. It's me, Professor Lupin."  
  
A small smile flickers across his lips. "I've had everyone else quit calling me that. Would you please call me Remus? It makes me feel younger."  
  
I hate you, Lupin. How dare you endear yourself to me? My eyes hurt with the effort to keep tears to myself. "Yessir, Rem-rem-remus..."  
  
I can't stop. This man who was so strong, if not aged, when he taught me, now sits drained and decrepit before me. I let myself fall into tears, covering my face and letting my glasses drop to my lap. It's a moment before I realise Lupin has leaned forward with his hands on my shoulders. I fall into his shoulder and he holds me while I sob.  
  
I will hate myself later for this.  
  
"Poor Percy..." I hear my mother say. "I think this may have been too much for him. First losing his job at the ministry and now seeing one of his favorite teachers in this state."  
  
I feel Lupin nod. "Losing your job is quite stressful, though I think seeing anyone in a condition such as mine would be upsetting." He tries to hold me tighter, though he's far too weak. Instead, I find myself clinging to him.  
  
I won't admit this to anyone. Not even you. This is not me telling you that I _might_ have admired this man. This is not me telling you that I _might_ have a soft spot for him.  
  
When I finally peel myself away from his bony form, I can only gasp softly, the tears having run out. I have never been able to cry for long periods of time. I've never needed to.  
  
I rub my eyes fiercely. This is so wrong. Everything is so wrong...  
  
They didn't tell me. They didn't tell me he would look like this.  
  
They just said he'd look a bit deteriorated. This isn't a bit. This is scary.

* * *

I am a coward.  
  
Still I tip-toe along the hallways, searching every door.  
  
I am a coward.  
  
The more I repeat it to myself, the more I swear I am hearing noises. Of course, every time I whip around, expecting to see something, someone, there's no one there. It's all in my imagination.  
  
Luck strikes. I twist the knob with a sweaty palm, the smooth brass handle slipping on the slick surface of my skin. Silently I push open the door.  
  
I'm surprised to find Lupin sitting up, my father talking with him.  
  
I stare.  
  
Father stares back. Lupin leans towards the door, having apparently heard.  
  
"Um...the loo?" I manage to squeak out.  
  
Lupin laughs. "It travels."


	11. Ron's Stand

Disclaimer: JK's. Not mine.

Author's notes: I won't lie. I don't like Ron in the books. Maybe its because I don't feel he's given enough growth...he just seems too flat. I have nothing to work from and nothing to make up. But I tried. I am not too fond of this chapter, though I really thought it was Ron's turn. It took me a long time because I was having so many problems getting in character with him. Um...I'm sorry about the delays with my chapters lately. Question: Ginny, Bill, Charlie, or someone else I haven't used? (Once I finish with everyone necessary, I'm going to start with the chars I already have used, reverse order.)

Btw...can you tell I have a fascination with twins yet?

* * *

"Brunhilda?!"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"For Rowena?" Harry considered a moment. I was giving him the deal of a lifetime, really. "Well," he considered.  
  
His consideration was interrupted by twin cracks.  
  
I glare at the twins. They aren't supposed to be doing that anyway, it didn't matter that they are completely invading my personal space...which may have been because they happened to have landed on me and the cards.  
  
They give me apologetic looks and extract themselves carefully, trying to avoid any further damage.  
  
"What do you want?" I grumble. But I should know better. I saw their apologetic looks, right? Since when have they ever apologized to me?  
  
"Ron, it's Percy," Fred says, watching the door.  
  
"There's something...off about him," George murmurs.  
  
"Like he's the biggest prat ever? Hmph. I knew that."  
  
Harry stares. "What do you mean?" He's always taken them a bit more seriously than I have. It doesn't matter how many times I've pestered him about taking things too seriously, he just doesn't seem to realize that a sense of humor would be good for him.  
  
"We think he's after Remus."  
  
"After him?" Harry and I question in unison.  
  
"Yeah. Out to get him..."  
  
"Knock him off..."  
  
"Help him kick the bucket..."  
  
"We get the idea," I growl. They're really grinding on my nerves.  
  
"Sorry..." George mumbles.  
  
I blink. There's something wrong. Very wrong. They must really be worried. "Why?"  
  
"Because I am! Just appreciate you got a sorry...I tell you, Fred...You try to be nice, figuring that it'll--" George snarled defensively, albeit mockingly.  
  
"I meant '_why_ do you think Percy is after Remus?'" I ask quietly.  
  
"Because we saw him sneaking around."  
  
"That's a bit unfair," Harry interrupts. We all turn to stare.  
  
"He was carrying his wand and he kept mumbling something."  
  
"Looked real nervous too."  
  
"What were you two doing up?" I realise this hasn't been asked yet.  
  
"George and I have important business to attend to!" Fred declares with a grin.  
  
Harry and I exchange looks of exasperation.  
  
"Fred and I wanted to know what Dad and Remus talked about," George admitted.  
  
Fred stared. "You're acting strange."  
  
George returned the stare. "I don't want Remus to die."  
  
"Neither do I."  
  
"Then act like it."  
  
They return from their side conversation back to us. Sometimes I wonder if twins would ever need anyone beside their sibling. They seem less like individuals and more like parts of one another. But then, I know how different they are. I know George is usually more likely to follow along with what Fred says. I know George would rather make the products than come up with them. I know Fred is more likely to look at broom models, while George looks at art supplies...which I did catch him doing once...  
  
"We're going to catch him."  
  
"If necessary, take him down."  
  
Harry and I turn back to one another, eyes wide. Did they say what we think we heard?  
  
"Are you with us?"  
  
"Or do we get to test out our latest product?" They grin maliciously. I know they will too.  
  
"We're in," Harry says firmly. He didn't even see their looks, which were likely meant for me anyway.

* * *

Percy pushes his oatmeal from one end of the bowl to the other. The twins are at the end of the table, murmuring and frequently looking up at us. Harry seems to have lost it on the edge of the table, staring as if it were the most important thing in the world.  
  
Me? I'm more interested in the lovely young woman who happened to sit next to me, with an equally loving look that I give her.  
  
I hear Fred mumble, "That's positively _disturbing_."  
  
George responds, "Really...ickle Ronniekins found someone before you did."  
  
They're lost in a flurry of laughter and friendly punches.  
  
I'm lost in her beautiful brown eyes, the halo of brown sugar hued twirling strands. "Mione..." I murmur. I know I meant to say 'good morning', but her name is far more beautiful? Don't you agree?  
  
She giggles, pressing her lovely lips to my cheek, nearly waking me up from my entranced state. "Good morning, Ron."  
  
I hum, embracing myself as I turn back to my breakfast. Gaze falls upon Percy. He's staring.  
  
_Don't look at me...You don't deserve to. Despite what Mum thinks, you aren't my brother._  
  
He sighs and looks back to his oatmeal.  
  
Was it then? Then that I realised his wand was lying next to his bowl? Is that what the twins were whispering about moments before the pseudo-fight broke out?  
  
I reach under the table, grabbing Hermione's hand, foot breaks loose to kick Harry, and gaze is turned upon the twins, who have finally come to their senses and now sit, smirking.  
  
Harry nearly falls out of his chair, just barely recovering with Percy's help, his eyes widen the moment he sees the wand. Hermione follows my stare first to the twins and then the wand. She narrowed her eyes.  
  
Fred and George haven't noticed me staring. I clear my throat, calling out, "Oi...Fred, George...P-pass the butter." Why was my voice unusually hoarse?  
  
The twins look up. I nod ever so slightly towards Percy's wand. They return the nod. Unfortunately, they forget about my request.  
  
"I know you are both next to manner-less, but I believe Ron asked you for the butter," Percy sneers softly.  
  
They look up. They have their wands out.  
  
Harry is fingering his in his pocket. I can see it.  
  
Even I hold mine, clutched to my palm tightly.  
  
Percy's face goes white.  
  
"Don't move..." George warns softly.  
  
"If you do..." Fred continues.  
  
"You're hippogriff bait," I complete. I see the twins acknowledge me with malicious grins. Apparently they approve of my wording.  
  
Percy puts up his hands slowly, standing even slower.  
  
"Why are you really here?" Harry asks quietly.  
  
"F-father's been asking around the Regulations Bureau...Raised suspicions. H-he's...He's in the _Final_! He has to be...k-k-k..." Percy stares at the table too hard. His eyes are too glossy.  
  
"Finish the Merlin-damned sentence, Perc."  
  
Percy looks at me surprised. "He has to be p-put down."  
  
"_HE'S NOT AN ANIMAL_!" Hermione screeches at the top of her lungs. Before I realize it, she's on her feet beside me, wand pointed and trembling. Tears are streaming down her cheeks, and I swear I see fire ablaze in her eyes.  
  
"But..."  
  
"What's the excuse now, Percy?" Fred growls.  
  
"Is it procedure? The proper way to rid yourselves of lycanthropy sufferers? Is it, Perc? Well...?" George stands, knocking his chair back, looking far more maniacal than I ever wished to see any of my brothers look.  
  
Someone opens the door, shrieking at the top of her lungs, "_STUPEFY_!" I can almost swear other voices echo the woman's, but hers stands out above all of them.  
  
The world goes dark.


	12. Bill's Distance

Disclaimer: Characters are JK's.

Author's Notes: I don't know if you can tell, but this is from Bill's point of view. He and Charlie always seemed a bit distant...Um. George's French line means 'I regret nothing.'

One last thing I heard...Someone told me recently that they found a fic to go along with my story. Frankly, I think I'm still blushing with delight...If that person is still reading, I'd love to see it! (My informer said she saw my name but never gave me the URL xD). Um...yeah, that's all! nn;;

* * *

I never thought it would end up like this.  
  
We were always so close.  
  
That's just how the Weasleys were.  
  
But then, I suppose I'm hardly one to speak. I might not have done anything at all to stop them. I would've let them do whatever they thought was necessary.  
  
I remove the washcloth from Ron's head. He hit it on the edge of the table when he went down. Figures the least coordinated of the Weasleys couldn't even be graceful when he was out cold.  
  
We stupefied all of them.  
  
What choice did we have?  
  
They would've killed him. There's no doubt in my mind of that.  
  
So what do we do now?  
  
Charlie walks in, eyeing Ron with a strange look.  
  
"Seems like he's finally coming into his own, doesn't it?" I ask quietly.  
  
Charlie nods and sits down on the edge of the bed beside me. "He just stood up to him, like it wasn't a problem."  
  
"The twins have been aching to do that for years, I'm sure."  
  
"Hmph. Any reason to find Percy at fault instead of themselves."  
  
"What does this mean?"  
  
"That Percy lied."  
  
"I can't believe it. What's wrong with him?"  
  
"He's an ambitious sort..."  
  
"Surprised me when he wasn't put in Slytherin..."  
  
"Join the club. But you know Perc, he'll keep at something until he fixes what he believes to be broken."  
  
I nod.  
  
Charlie sighs, "Mum says dinner's ready."  
  
"A'right." I stand and Charlie follows me from the room.

* * *

We sit here, pretending nothing happened. Harry, Fred and George are the only ones awake from their _stupefy_s. Harry keeps nodding off into his potatoes though, so I figure I must not have done too horribly when casting the spell. Fred and George keep staring at the rest of us at the table like we betrayed them.  
  
In a way, I kind of agree.  
  
The we, beside Harry and the twins, of course, would happen to be half of the Order, who happened to have helped stop the attempt on Percy's life with far more enthusiasm than was necessary. Kingsley sits at one end of the table, beside Tonks, Charlie and I nearby. Mum sits near Mad-Eye and Harry, but I think that is mainly because they don't want him to drown in his potatoes. Ginny is upstairs eating with Hermione, who is awake, but unwilling to leave her room.  
  
George slams his knife down, trying to encompass the entire table with a singular glare. "He was trying to _kill_ Remus!"  
  
Fred nods, eyes shooting daggers at any who happen to notice the silence has been broken. "Are we just supposed to sit back and watch it happen?"  
  
Harry snorts, Mad-Eye Moody reaching over to pull his face from the potatoes again.  
  
"What are we supposed to do?" I ask quietly.  
  
"I don't know!"  
  
"Something! At least...not nothing."  
  
Both the boys look rather heart-broken, as if they had just seen their metaphorical puppy smashed into kibble by a troll.  
  
"We're going to keep him here," Moody announces.  
  
Mum stifles a soft sob. As I turn to look, she raises her napkin to her eye and blots away a tear. How could this have happened?  
  
"...Under wraps, of course," Mad-Eye finishes.  
  
Mum lets out a small cry of distress, and every Weasley present, including Harry, perks up, half standing. "My family...My beautiful babies..." Fred and George have the humility to look quite ashamed. "No more!" She stands, dropping her napkin. With that, she strides angrily from the kitchen.  
  
From in the hall we hear a muffled cry of "MOLLY!" and Dad appears in the doorway. "What's all this about?" he inquires with a purely befuddled look.  
  
"Broken..." Harry mumbles, flopping back to his seat.  
  
"Broken what?" Dad looks to the rest of us questioningly.  
  
"She's mad about us trying to kill Percy," Fred says standing completely.  
  
George follows his twin's example. "Je ne regrette rien."  
  
Maybe that Theo kid is having a decent influence on George...I could swear that was French, with a horrible accent.  
  
"Regret nothing..." Harry murmurs, starting to fall forward again. Mad-Eye catches him casually.  
  
"Y-you shouldn't have done it," Dad mutters. "Remus wouldn't have wanted you to..."  
  
The twins sit simultaneously, paling considerably. "But it was _for_ Remus..." George squeaks.  
  
"I think...I think...Remus hasn't got much longer anyhow."  
  
Silence. 


	13. Ginny's Responsibility

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Jo's characters. My twisted brain.

Author's notes: Puzzled over this one for a few days, then whipped it out in about an hour or two. (Closer to five...but um...yeah.) I think I'm going to write a story about Dean...he reminds me of a very attractive young man that I might possibly make into _my _next venture. xD

Clink.  
  
Crookshanks stared as the marble bumped into the pocket of fuzz he'd gained over the last year or so.  
  
Clink.  
  
I aimed again, nearly flicking the third marble, only to be interrupted by a horrific cry. It sounded like someone was strangling a puppy. I grimace at the thought. Really, since second year, I have the scariest thoughts sometimes.  
  
Clink.  
  
Crookshanks bats at the marble. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear he was trying to divert my attention away from something.  
  
All the better to find out what it is...  
  
"Sirius..." a crackling voice calls out.  
  
I jump to my feet. I know Mum is shopping, and Ron and Hermione went to Diagon Alley, and Harry went with them, but only so he could see the twins' latest stuff...Dad was with Mum. Charlie, unaccounted for, but I know he's out. Tonks and Snape had something to take care of...Ew. What a horrible thought. I won't even share that one with you. Bill ran off to have lunch with Fleur, who is in town for a few days. Who else?!  
  
"Sirius?" the voice comes again.  
  
What do I do?  
  
"Sirius! Please..."  
  
"H-he's not...here, Remus," I whisper softly.  
  
"Sirius...?" He is pleading now. I can hear it in his voice.  
  
"H-he's not here!" I call out.  
  
There's a creak on the stairs. Remus is up? Why? What would possess him to do that?  
  
I run to the bottom of the stairs.  
  
Hunched over like an old man, blinding feeling out in front of him, Remus. He's wrapped himself in one of the many blankets piled on his bed and managed to tie back his long hair.  
  
"Sirius...?" he calls again.  
  
A tingling sensation touches my eyes, and even if he can't see, I'll keep my eyes open.  
  
Another creak.  
  
"G-go back to bed, Remus..."  
  
"Whose there?"  
  
He doesn't know my voice? "It's me, Ginny."  
  
"You can't be Ginny..." he murmurs. "Ginny's voice is..."  
  
"Younger..." Merlin. He's got amnesia.  
  
"Yes."  
  
I climb the stairs towards him, as he tries to take another step. Feet speed up; I can see he's unbalanced. If he takes the next step, he'll...  
  
I didn't even have time to get out of the way. He steps forward, or attempts to, and later I'll replay the motion in my head for hours, blaming myself endlessly, but for now, all I can do is watch him take the tumble.  
  
Somehow it ends up that I have curled around him, after he fell into me, protecting his fragile body while we plunge down the remaining stairs. I tuck his head under my chin, clenching my teeth and closing my eyes. Arms wrap around his thin upper body, legs folding his up to mine.  
  
We come to a stop finally. I know someone is crying, but I don't know if it is me or him. Maybe both of us are.  
  
"R-remus...?" I whisper, choking softly.  
  
"Wh-what's going on?" he whimpers.  
  
"Oh great Godric..."  
  
"Where's Sirius? Why can't I see anything?"  
  
"_No_," I moan. It's the only thing that comes to mind. "No, no, no..." I can only groan and shake my head.  
  
"Please...Tell me what's going on..." he continues to plead.  
  
"Its all downhill from here, isn't it, Gin?"  
  
_Percy_! Wide-eyed, I look up to the top of the stairs at what remains of the brother I grew up with.  
  
"Do you understand now, Gin?"  
  
"Don't call me that, you bastard."  
  
"So you've gained a dirty mouth, have you? It was Fred and George, most likely, that corrupted your language. I don't suppose you've gained their irresponsibility too?"  
  
"Piss off. You've never been a good judge of character," I growl at him. "Fred and George took care of my like you were always 'too busy' to. I'm glad for that too. I thank Mum every day for not leaving me with a prat like you."  
  
A whimper interrupts us. I cuddle closer to the shrinking form of my once-professor.  
  
"Where's my wand, Ginny?"  
  
"They destroyed it."  
  
His nostrils flare, cheeks reddening slightly. "Where is your wand, Ginny?"  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know?"  
  
I feel my shirt steadily growing wet and I glance down at Remus, curled into a small ball. His face is pressed to the crook of my arm, just above my left breast, tears staining the fabric one after another. He whines softly, sounding far more like a wolf than I'd like to admit.  
  
Crookshanks suddenly is at my side, glaring up at Percy. He growls softly at the other redhead, tail thumping the floor several times.  
  
"You think I'm threatened by that pitiful excuse for a werewolf and a fat cat with a bit of kneazle in it?" he laughs, humorlessly, watching me.  
  
A single step. That's all he managed to take before Crookshanks flew up the stairs and attached himself to Percy's leg.  
  
I take my chance and leap to my feet, half carrying, half dragging Remus. I can hear Percy screeching behind us. Panting, I try to adjust Remus into a more plausible position, but he starts fighting me. No! This isn't the time...We don't have time to do this...  
  
I push him rather roughly into the kitchen. I will apologize later. Right now, we _need_ to get out of here.  
  
A handful of Floo powder and I grab him along with me, hoping it works with more than one person. Before I have time to throw down the powder, Crookshanks comes limping in. I yelp out when I see his bloodied state, wondering how any brother of mine could do that.  
  
Frightened, I realize Percy has followed Crookshanks. Merlin, I hope this works. I dive into the fire, throwing down the Floo powder, while screaming, "_DIAGON ALLEY_!"

* * *

Dark eyes. Big dark eyes, dark skin and fuzzy hair. "Ginny?" Dean questions softly.  
  
I cough, turning to one side to spit out the mouth full of dust and dirt. Nodding, I choke on grime.  
  
Lips curl slightly at the edges while he helps me sit up. I realize that Remus isn't in my arms and scramble to get up. He pushes me back down. "Professor Lupin is fine. Tom took him upstairs. Seamus is up there with him."  
  
"C-crookshanks?" My next thought.  
  
Dean nods. "Lucky. Hagrid was here and he took Crooks' off to Eeylops."  
  
"How did I get h--?" I motion to the basement, where I am currently located.  
  
Dean pulls himself into a kneeling position, sliding his hands under my body and slowly lifting me up. "Silly girl. The whole Network's down, 'cause of you."  
  
I feel heat rise to my cheeks.  
  
"Bill and Fleur said to tell you, Percy's being taken care of." He smiles at me. Again my cheeks feel awfully warm. "Don't you know that you can't travel with that many people...let alone animals?"  
  
I nod, leaning against his chest as he carries me up the stairs. "I just needed to get away..."  
  
"Hm." His only response. Strong, dark, quiet...Artistic. And you wonder why I said he was my next venture...  
  
When we finally get up to the room, he sets me down, giving me one of those smiles that makes me blush, and knocks on the door. Seamus answers, ushering us in. "Harry's apparently on his way with Theo and the twins. We can't get 'hold of yer parents, Gin, but we're working on it."  
  
I nod absently. My eyes are drawn to the figure in the bed. He's so small. Like a child, so weak. I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed. Fingers push the hair out of his sweat streaked face. I use the edge of the covers to wipe away said sweat, and promptly stand to look at Seamus and Dean who are watching me curiously. "Get me a wet rag, cool, if you please, and some extra water, lukewarm. A glass of ice cubes, and another rag, dry, mind." I pause a moment. "Oh, and a butterbeer."  
  
"Butterbeer?" both the boys question.  
  
"Yes, I can still taste dirt in my mouth. Now go!"  
  
They take off and I smile. Told you Percy was a bad judge of character. 


	14. Charlie's New Brother

Disclaimer: Jo owns em, I just occasionally take them for walkies.

A/N: Wow...guys, I'm sorry. This took even longer than the Ron chapter to write. I realized one: I know just about nothing about Charlie, two: Writer's Block is evil and three: Lemon Poppyseed muffins cure all, including the dreaded Block. Anywho, we're finally getting somewhere in the story...mainly towards the end. I've only got two more chapters planned out, but it may work out to only one, as you've shown that short chapters only annoy you. nn;

Just warning you now, I've started another story. Nothing to do with this one, thankfully. Its a bit more light-hearted.

* * *

"Charlie?"  
  
"I'm busy, Mum. Can it wait?"  
  
"Percy, Ginny and Remus are missing."  
  
I may not be the smartest chap in all of England, but I know my priorities. Ginny and Remus have sneaked up the list of late, mainly because Ginny becoming a young woman and Remus is dying. I only met him a couple years ago, and frankly it's been quite heartbreaking to see this man deteriorate into nothing.  
  
Three years after I went to Romania, I saw a dragon die of a heart condition, caused by a wasting spell thrown at it by a spell-happy wizard. It's something like that with Remus, but this monster has a human side, and it's not any easier to watch it fade than it was the dragon. I dare say it's harder. Morbid curiosity makes me wonder about his wolf form.  
  
"Where are they?" I ask looking to the fireplace with my mother's head in it.  
  
"We're at the Leaky Cauldron."  
  
"Floo Network still out?"  
  
"Yes. The Ministry is still retrieving all the wizards and witches who got caught in the limbo Ginny created." She looked rather apprehensive. "Please hurry, Charlie. If they get Percy, we might have a few problems."  
  
"Have you spoken to Professor Dumbledore?"  
  
"We can't get a hold of him. Severus says that he went to the Ministry to help with rescue the people in limbo."  
  
I nod. "I'll be there in a moment, Mum."  
  
Her head disappears. I stare at the empty space for several minutes working out what could be done. Turning aside, I grab my wand, putting it in the inside pocket of my outer robe. One last glance. If they get Percy before Dumbledore does, I doubt anywhere I've been will ever be the same.  
  
With that, I apparate.

* * *

Harry sits beside Remus, who is swaddled in blankets like an oversized toddler. All the while, the messy haired boy eyes us warily. Already he's made it clear he'll be helping up with the decisions from now on. Even Hermione and Ron look a bit surprised by his aggressive nature today.  
  
Fleur disappeared with Seamus and Dean just moments before, ushering them off in case the Ministry tries to link them to us. Us, I make it sound like we are bad guys. I guess sometimes the good guys have to be the bad guys to be good. Does that make sense?  
  
Mum tried to make Ginny and Ron and Hermione leave, but damned if those kids didn't fight tooth and nail. I'm sure Seamus and Dean would've fought more if they understood what was going on, what was at stake.  
  
"Are we just going to sit here and wait for them to cart us off to Azkaban?" Harry growls into the silence. "That's what they're going to do if we don't get out of here."  
  
"We can't get back to Grimmauld Place through Floo, and I'm not leaving anyone here, considering not all of us are of age to apparate," Mum says eyeing Ginny.  
  
"We've got distractions," Fred suddenly pipes in, to nearly half the room's confusion.  
  
"Theo's back at the shop, if we can get her back there, he'll make sure she's safe until we can get her to Grimmauld Place," George continues.  
  
"I still don't trust that boy..." Mum sighs.  
  
"'Mere, Gin." George waves her over, and she obeys. He produces a pink piece of taffy.  
  
"Eat up, Gin. It'll help us smuggle you out."  
  
"What about you two?" a concerned voice queries from the back of the room.  
  
"Don't worry, Dad. We'll be fine. We've gotten out of worse scrapes than this," Fred does his best to reassure our father.  
  
George takes a different approach...the truth. "Anyway, twins aren't too common, and the taffy affects us the same."  
  
Meanwhile, Ginny has eaten the taffy and not only become blonde, but nearly a foot taller. Her round freckly face is replaced by high cheekbones and pearly white skin. I stare a moment, this can't be right. A suspicious glance is thrown at the twins, who are smirking.  
  
"What does that stuff do?"  
  
"Gives you exactly thirty minutes to look any way you desire," George announces proudly.  
  
"I can see some trouble in the near future..." I groan softly.  
  
"You want to look like Fleur, Gin?" Bill asks quietly.  
  
She blushes prettily. "Sh-shouldn't we get out of here, before this wears off?"  
  
The twins nod simultaneously, quickly disappearing out the door, Fleur-Ginny in tow. Once the door is again closed, a silencing spell is put up by several different wands.  
  
"Shall we?" a nervous Mum asks. A few nods. A few sympathetic glances at Harry.  
  
"Be careful, Har," Ron whispers, clutching a teary-eyed Hermione's hand.  
  
"Get out of here, before anyone gets hurt," Harry commands, and we all apparate.

* * *

The fire was shifting colors and making less than normal noises, and all of us sat around it as if it were the most important thing in the world. Fleur was curled beside me, which isn't to say I wasn't curled back, Ron with Hermione, Charlie sits between Mum and Dad and Gin and Fred.  
  
George and Theo didn't come back like they were supposed to.  
  
We have no news of Harry and Remus.  
  
Not a word of Percy.  
  
All we can do is wait.  
  
My brain feels as if it's imploding with every tick of the grandfather clock. At each chime, my breath catches in my throat, forming a lump I wish I could just weep away.  
  
But that wouldn't be productive, would it?  
  
A sudden crack of the air reveals Severus Snape. "Harry and Remus are back at the castle safely. Percy has not yet been found, though Professor Dumbledore is doing his best to find him before any of the other witches and wizards do."  
  
"H-have you h-heard anything ab-about George, Professor?" Ginny squeaks.  
  
"Was he supposed to come to the castle?" His brow furrows as if he's trying to remember.  
  
Ginny and Fred shake their heads. Fred answers his confused look a moment later, "We don't know what happened to them."  
  
"Them?"  
  
"Theo too."  
  
"The Nott boy?"  
  
"Well he's quite male if you ask me..." Fred attempts a joke, and then paws absently at the couch. "Merlin I hope he's safe." We all know he means George, silence falling after he finishes.  
  
"Hmph," interrupts the sorrowful sadness. "Really now, Fred. I expect you to pull one of those twin telepathy deals."  
  
All eyes shoot up to the two boys in the doorway. Theo looks a bit worse for wear (at least, I'm assuming that's Theo), scratches decorating his thin face, while panting softly. George stares expectantly at Fred, who leaps up from his seat and pounces into the open arms of his twin. The two cling to each other frantically a moment, heads together while they whisper something, that, by the look on Theo's face, is something meant for only them.  
  
Theo slips past my brothers, one hand still clutching his broom, and moves towards closer to our group. A nervous glance makes me realize how out of place he must feel.  
  
"Maybe it would be best if you came back to Hogwarts with me, Nott," Snape murmurs thoughtfully.  
  
"You helped save my Ginny?" Mum asks.  
  
Theo blushes slightly, while Ginny remarks, "He was amazing, Mum. Took a beating, and just kept on. The few Aurors arrived at the shop and said they thought we knew the whereabouts of Remus, and we needed to be taken in for questioning. So Fred n' George, they were all 'We dunno an'thin' and Theo comes up from behind and totally wham! Bang! Boom! Spectacular..."  
  
"Ginny," Theo coughed softly. "When Fred and George talk, you aren't supposed to listen--" A chorused, "HEY!" sounded from behind, along with the giggles of the girls. Theo held out a hand to Mum and Dad, Mum reaching for it first. "Theodore Nott and you are Mrs. Weasley?"  
  
"I'm Molly, and this is my husband, Arthur. It is a pleasure to meet you." She turns slightly when he finishes shaking hands with Dad and points to all of us in turn. "That's Charlie, and you've probably met Fleur-" A nod. "That's Bill over there and you know Ron and Hermione too, I'm sure." He nods again. "Good. Now that you are acquainted with the family, you can become a part of it."  
  
"You need to stop adopting Mum," George chuckles.  
  
"Yeah, or everyone will become a Weasley."  
  
"May not be such a bad thing..." Theo murmurs.  
  
"Then I suppose we should welcome our newest brother," I announce with a chuckle, "Theodore Nott Weasley!"  
  
"Hm..." Bill stares a moment, "I think I rather like the sound of just Theodore Weasley."  
  
"Theodore Weasley it is!"  
  
Theodore, in the meantime, has gained a rather large grin, eyes sparkling. A glance was thrown to Snape, who had an amused gleam in his own eye, before he clicked his heels together, military style and offered a hand to Snape. "I regret that I must turn down your offer, sir, it seems I have a family, who would be willing to let me stay?" A sly look is thrown Mum's way.  
  
"Of course!" "Absolutely!" "Righto!" The replies seemed to make the boy shine even more.  
  
Snape withdrew his hand and nodded. "I will go back to the castle, and inform Harry that you are all quite all right." Another crack and he was gone.  
  
Our family just keeps growing, doesn't it?


	15. Remus' Regression

Disclaimer: JKR is da Goddess. I am merely the little slave sitting on her big toe with my imaginings and my keyboard.

Author's notes: Hehe. Its done. This is the **second to last chapter**. And there will be an epilogue. I tried condensing it into one chapter, with Harry as the last speaker, but Lupin kept tugging at my heartstrings and I finally gave in. By the end of this chapter, you will hate me, Harry and possibly Dumbledore. I look forward to some nasty flames. lol

* * *

Gray. That is the extent of my sight.  
  
How horrid to live in such a blank environment.  
  
Scents and touch. I believe that is all I have left. I just wish someone would tell me what was going on.  
  
There is someone nearby, someone I would swear was James, if it weren't for the stranger scents on him. I can even smell Lily. There is more to him than just them though. A darker scent. It frightens me, truly.  
  
I don't understand how someone can take on so many scents.  
  
I also don't understand why he is so nervous, or why he keeps checking on me.  
  
Me. Look at me. Wasn't it only yesterday that I was just at the Sorting Feast, going into fourth year? But I feel old. I feel so tired. And I can smell my own death.  
  
I am so confused.  
  
The last time I asked for Sirius, the not-James started crying. I don't understand why Sirius would affect him like that.  
  
A crack and the strong scent of sulfur, strong enough I know humans can smell it, fills the room. I quiver, though I try my damnedest not to. Father always told me I had to be strong while I could, because you never know when you aren't going to have any strength to give.  
  
"Everyone is safe." That voice? Do I know that voice?  
  
"Thank you, Professor Snape," the not-James says quietly.  
  
"Don't thank me, Potter. I am only doing this for Dumbledore." With a swish of cloth, I listen to his fading footsteps as they disappear behind a creaking door.  
  
Potter? Maybe it is James? He sometimes smells funny after Quidditch. I think it's because he picks up scents from the locker room.  
  
"James?" I venture.  
  
"Harry," he answers. "My name is Harry."  
  
"But James doesn't have any brothers..."  
  
"I'm his son. James is gone, Remus."  
  
Ha. There's a good one. James having a son. By the tone of his voice, he's older than we are. Maybe he's just a cousin or something. "What do you mean James is gone? Where did he go?"  
  
"MERLIN!" he swears, voice thick. I feel bad that I've upset him, and try to turn over, as if to hide from him. He quiets quickly, wrapping his arms around me, holding me as if I were no more than a child. "I'm sorry, Remus. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. It's just that...Great Godric, I don't want to lose you."  
  
I want to tell him that I don't even know him, why would it matter if he lost me? I want to, but those words are very strong. My belly clenches up, realizing that, even if he means nothing to me, I mean quite a bit to him.  
  
"It's too soon. You're the last family I have left, Remus. It's just too soon..." his voice falls into a whisper, choking on sobs.

* * *

I've had time to giggle over '_Professor Snape'_. I've had time for the not-James, named Harry, to tell me what is happening, and what happened to all my friends. I keep forgetting bits of the story, and Harry keeps retelling me patiently.  
  
Professor Snape has come in twice to update us on Professor Dumbledore's progress. From what I can discern of that, a man named Percy needs to be found. I don't know why, but I have a feeling he's a bad man. He also needs to be found by Professor Dumbledore before the Ministry workers.  
  
Strange that, all of this seems to be about me.  
  
"Harry?" I ask quietly, after the second time Professor Snape goes away.  
  
He shifts slightly, so he can look at me, I think. "Hm?"  
  
"Why is everyone doing this?"  
  
"We're trying to save you, Remus. We don't want you to leave us."  
  
That doesn't make sense. "But I'm going to die anyway."  
  
"Well...Yes. But, we don't want you to die because someone said you had to," he reasons.  
  
Maybe it's my wolf side, but, what's the difference? I'm starting to think that dying at someone else's hands might not be such a bad thing. It'd be quicker, that's for sure.

* * *

"Harry!" I wake up to someone calling. Blinking, I rub my eyes.  
  
Strange...I still can't see.  
  
The warm body next to me lifts itself from the bed, a soft groan of wondering why it was necessary for him to be awake.  
  
"Percy has been found!"  
  
Percy? Sounds familiar, like I'm trying to hold onto a bar of wet soap, the firmer I try to hold it, the more it slips away from me. Maybe I'll think of it later.  
  
"By whom?" the second voice inquires.  
  
"Dumbledore. He's got Percy up in his office. He thinks you should be in on it."  
  
"Thanks, Tonks."  
  
Blankets are pulled up to my chin, hands tucking me in carefully. But I want to know what's happening, struggling, I wiggle free of the cocoon. "Noo!" I whine softly. "Dun leave Remmie."  
  
"Shh..." the male voice whispers. Fingers brush hair away from my face. "Good little boys have to get their sleep."  
  
"For tha Moon?" I ask quietly, and am rewarded with a gasp.  
  
"Oh Merlin...on second thought, why don't you come with me, Remmie?" The blankets are pulled back, and I'm lifted up, cradled in the man's arms. He mutters while he carries me, "I can't believe I didn't remember the full moon was tomorrow. There's just too much happening. I wish Padfoot were still here...He'd make sure everything was right, and he would've remembered too."  
  
"What's Padfoot?"  
  
"Padfoot was...a puppy," he answers quietly. "He was a very nice puppy who loved us very much. He was very cuddly and loved to snuggle with you a lot."  
  
"Why don't I 'member him?" I pout trying to remember when I had a puppy. I've always wanted one, but after Mama went to heaven, we couldn't get one.  
  
"Because Padfoot left a long time ago," the man answers shortly.  
  
"Where'd he go?"  
  
"He went to heaven, where all good puppies go," he sighs.  
  
"Jus' like Mama. Can I get 'nother puppy?" I wiggle in his arms. I know exactly what kind of puppy I want. I was a big black one.  
  
"Maybe, but I don't think you'll ever find a puppy quite like Padfoot," the man coughs, shifting me in his arms. I realize he's crying and I lay my head on his shoulder.  
  
I don't know who he is, but I think he's one of Daddy's new baby-sitters. They always leave when the Moon comes. I guess they don't like the Moon. I can understand too, because it makes you hurt a lot.  
  
Suddenly we stop moving, his voice ringing out, "Ginger Snaps," then a low growl echoes through the area, like the scraping of stone on stone.  
  
"I like ginger snaps," I announce proudly.  
  
"I bet you do. With lots of hot cocoa too."  
  
"Yep! I like choc'lot."  
  
I realize we're going up stairs and really am getting quite anxious. I wish I could see where we are going. When we finally reach the top, all kinds of new smells rush at me. I could sit here for hours wondering what there was to see.  
  
"Welcome back, Harry!" a jovial voice calls. A few other voices echo his greeting.  
  
"Hallo, Headmasters and Headmistresses..." he murmurs. Then a bit more solemnly, "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."  
  
"Nice to see you are still well, Harry," an old voice answers. "You brought Remus with you."  
  
"The full moon is tomorrow night, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, Harry," the rattling sigh of response comes. "I had completely forgotten about it myself until Percy here reminded me."  
  
"W-will it be his Final?" the quavering voice above me asks.  
  
"I believe so, Harry. But now, we really should attend to the matter of Percy." I am set down in a big cushy chair. "Because Remus is unable to deal with this himself, I think it is only too necessary that I ask his last remaining relative. Harry, what do you think should be done with Percy?"  
  
"I want him to watch Remus' Final. I want to be there too. And..." he pauses, taking a deep breath, "I want him to see if he can kill him without his wand."  
  
"Perhaps the sword of Godric would help?" the elder voice asks.  
  
"Yes. That has silver in it, doesn't it?" Another pause. "Good. Then if he does, it will be quick."  
  
"What do you have to say to this, Percy?" the elder voice inquiries.  
  
"You are crazy!" the panicked yelp comes. "Why would I kill him then?"  
  
"Because that is the last time he is Remus. Because after that, he will only be in pain. And because that was what you came to do originally," Harry growls.  
  
I know I should be scared, but the wolf says that everything is going to be ok, and I trust him.


	16. The Beginning

Disclaimer: Do I have to give em back? Well, ok, JK does own em...I just like playin with em.

Author's notes: I had planned to have the epilogue done and posted at the same time I had this **final chapter **finished, but, alas, Harry and Remus aren't cooperating. This one...I think its going to be a definite tear jerker...I definitely had a tear in my eye while I wrote it, but I don't know if imagining it is the same as reading it. (Just to tell you, I haven't really been affected much by the story, besides the small bout of depression, so a tingle of a tear means something, I hope.) So, yes, this is the final chapter. I will have the epilogue up shortly, in a few hours at least. **Hugs and kisses, children. I love you all, thank you for reading. **(::divulges secret:: I got the idea for this story from Tuesdays with Morrie. Read the book, see the movie, enjoy life!)

* * *

After retching twice, I'm not feeling any better about the decision. In fact, even while I'm hanging my head over the toilet for a third round, finding my stomach empty, I'm starting to feel worse.  
  
Sweat is beading around my forehead, my lips, trailing lines down my face and soaking through my shirt. Pulling off the already disgusting shirt, I wipe my face and mouth, moving to spit out the last of the diluted bile that has gathered around my teeth and burns at my gums.  
  
I get no further than contemplating getting off the floor when I feel another warm body next to mine. Cool hands remove the shirt from my hands and swiftly dispose of it, touching on my brow and neck.  
  
"Go back ta bed, Remmie," I grumble irritably. The hands pause, pulling back from my smoldering skin. Suddenly I'm wishing I hadn't said anything.  
  
"Remmie _is_ in bed, Harry," a cool feminine voice whispers. "Sounds like you have him on the brain...Godric, you're burning up."  
  
"I just...Oh Godric, what have I done..." Heaving sobs break up my voice, reducing it to nothing more than the scratchy tone it held on for fourth and fifth year. I let my forehead fall to the edge of the toilet, resting there while I sob.  
  
Gentle arms curl around me, moving my head from toilet seat to shoulder, a welcome alternative. Fingers fall down my back, while whispers sounding like the wind purr along my ears, not that I hear much of what is said. "Shh...Harry. You did what needed to be done."  
  
"No! I've killed him! I've killed my last family...I've...Merlin, Tonks..."  
  
Arms move under mine, half lifting me, half dragging me to my feet. "Are you done?" At my nod, she pulls me from the loo, tapping my lips with a cleansing spell that I can feel tingle throughout my mouth. Still half carrying me, she brings me back to the bed Remus fell asleep in. "Listen Harry, you didn't do anything wrong."  
  
"I left his death up to a traitor..." I groan.  
  
"Would you feel any better killing him?" she asks earnestly, laying me gently to the bed.  
  
"I don't know. I don't know if...if I could..."  
  
Tugging off my jeans, she sighs. "It may not seem like it, but you've done him a favor...Professor Dumbledore," she starts, staring at me thoughtfully. "Professor Dumbledore said that you asked if the blade of Godric had silver in it. Why? All the books suggest that any metal affects them badly by the end..."  
  
"In 1897, a wizard by the name of Drapac performed experiments on lycanthropes in their final stages of the condition..."  
  
"Tell me you actually listened to Professor Binns?"  
  
"No, I got this from one of Theo's books." I pause for a grin. "Anyway, Drapac was later stopped in 1912 by the Ministry, when they realized the horrible experiments he'd been performing. When they invaded his home, they found several bodies, of course, and strangely enough, several children, who were, later, identified to be lycanthropes. Because Drapac was killed in the initial attack, they never found out how the lycanthropes were changed into children."  
  
"What does this have to do with silver?"  
  
"Well, later, when those children grew up, they had a strange affinity for silver."  
  
"How? I thought they were lycanthropes."  
  
"They were cured."  
  
"Godric..."  
  
"Don't get excited yet, it's a theory...One that may easily fall through. If it does, which it mostly likely will, Remus won't be reborn...he'll just die." I glance at the lump under the covers beside me. It looks far too tense, and I know he's been listening, I just don't know how he's processing my words. If I wasn't so certain that he'd be able to hear me just as well as if I were whispering in the loo as opposed to right next to him, I'd hate myself for saying such things so near to him.

* * *

"Will I go ta Heav'n?" Remus asks in a particularly childish voice, the same one he's been using since last night.  
  
"Yep. Then you and P-paddy and your Mummy will all be happy, and nothing c-can hurt you ever again." My words are foreign in my mouth, whispered as if that will make them more real. Tears have trailed down my cheeks by this time, and even Tonks and Professor Dumbledore are looking a bit glossy eyed.  
  
Snape excused himself from dinner a few moments ago, and I'm beginning to suspect he actually has emotions.  
  
Remus taps the edge of his plate with his fork, looking bored, or confused, I'm not sure which. "What about your Mum and Dad?"  
  
Oh. "Ye-yeah. They'll be there too. A-and you can play with Padfoot too."  
  
Tonks gets up suddenly, strutting from the room, as if her legs were stiff. Closing the door behind herself, she suddenly screeches in the hallway, her footsteps echoing a moment later.  
  
Remus stares wide-eyed at the door. "Is she okay?"  
  
"She's a little sad," I mutter to my potatoes.  
  
"Why?" he turns his aged, though childlike face to me.  
  
"Because she will miss you. And so will I. Everyone will miss you a lot."  
  
"Can you come too?"  
  
"No. It's not our time yet. But we'll be there as so-soon as we can."  
  
"Will it hurt?"  
  
I can't answer that. I want to follow Tonks' example. I want to run screaming out of this room. I want to get as far away as I can from this man, who is no more than a child anymore. Dully, I look to Dumbledore for an answer.  
  
"Why don't you finish your pumpkin juice, my boy? I hear there is French chocolate silk pie for dessert..." he says with a smile.  
  
"Oh! I like choc'lot," Remus yelped and guzzled his pumpkin juice, shoving the remnants of his dinner into his mouth as well.  
  
True to his word, moments after Remus finishes, the dinners that Professor Dumbledore and I barely touched, including Remus' clean plate are cleared for the pie. Watching him down the pie, I try to think back to my last words to him when he was normal...before this mess.  
  
I doubt they are the words I want to speak now. 'Thank you' would be a good set, or 'I love you', but I'm nearly sure my words were as pointless as 'I'm sure everything will be fine.'

* * *

Where's the eerie music? I feel like a funeral march should be playing.  
  
Remus is holding Dumbledore's hand, who is leading him to the cage we set up earlier. Snape is walking a few steps behind them, holding a smoking goblet. I have a feeling that's not the Wolfsbane potion. Tonks is clinging to me, sobbing softly into my arm every so often. Percy is walking behind us, silent and stiff. Hagrid follows up Percy, though I think it is only to make sure he doesn't take off. I can almost feel the redhead's eyes on my left hand. My left hand where I clutch the Sorting Hat, filled with the silver blade of Godric.  
  
Strike what I first said. I _know_ the Funeral March should be playing.  
  
Gaze settling on the cage, I can feel my dinner try to revisit my mouth. I feel like I'm already looking at a bloody scene. I can almost see Remus sprawled, half wolf, eyes glazed with the look of death.  
  
We all pause in front of the cage; Dumbledore shows Remus inside and start to help him undress. Still as statues, we watch in a sick fascination. When finally Remus is down to his skivvies, Dumbledore gathers the remaining clothing and returns from behind the bars.  
  
Wriggling my arm free of Tonks, I grab Percy's arm and drag him along behind me. He follows without protest, though slightly hesitant in his steps. Good, he's not fighting.  
  
Once behind the bars, Hagrid closes the front gate and locks it, mumbling, "G'luck, Harry."  
  
I nod. I don't want luck with this. I hope we fail miserably and Remus mauls me to death before the deed is done. Silently, I draw the sword from the Hat, and push the Hat through the bars to Dumbledore, who takes it.  
  
"Any minute now." Is that my voice? I sound so neutral. I sound so lost.  
  
Percy watches me, trembling hands clasped in front of him. "H-Harry?"  
  
"Shut up, Percy."  
  
Minutes drag out, and then suddenly, the calm, almost bored looking Lupin leaps up from sitting. Eyes narrow, wincing in obvious pain. Skin looks stretched too tight over too large an area, every muscle, every tendon exposed and traceable. Mouth is gaping, though no sound is emitted, a silent plea.  
  
I shove the blade into Percy's hand. "Do it now." When he refuses to move, merely staring blankly at the sight in front of him, I elbow him sharply. "DO IT NOW!"  
  
Percy stumbles forward, dragging the sword slightly on the ground. After the few steps, he still refuses to move, knees bent slightly, whispering, "I can't, I can't, I can't..."  
  
The beast that was Remus, howls inhumanly. Hands are curled, strained as the fur breaks in bloody gashes along his tendons. Skin is pealed away, as clawed hands start tearing in absent rage against his own body. Every cut reveals a new layer of fur underneath, as if the wolf was just waiting one layer beneath his skin. Strips of flesh fall away like torn bits of parchment, curling in upon themselves and shriveling away into nothingness. Screeching howls, moans and groans, growls and snarls, all now inhabit the air where silence once reigned.  
  
If Percy isn't going to, then I will.  
  
Lunging forward, I grab the sword from his limp hand, and raise it two- handed, just as I did second year with the Basilik. In the same upward thrust, I plunge the blade through the furred belly, sliding to a halt near his semi-human legs.  
  
Silence again takes hold of the area, as crimson liquid trails down the edge of the blade. I gasp audibly as it hits my fingers, dripping in a splattering puddle between my legs. Gaze is wrenched away from the blood, and the sword, looking up into the wolf.  
  
Teeth are bared, and eyes gleaming, though a scratchy and twisted version of a voice emerges from the wreckage of Remus Lupin, of his own voice, "Th- thanks."  
  
I nod, mouth agape, not sure if it was shock or bewilderment that killed my voice.  
  
The wolfman returns to his normal human state as his body crumples, plunging the blade deeper, a grunt the only response. I swiftly relieve the blade of its duty, unsheathing it from the body.  
  
Folding myself around the body, I can feel the sting of tears, even the burning warmth of them as they trail down my cheeks, but nothing seems real. Slowly I turn, looking over my shoulder at Tonks, who has sought the solace of Snape.  
  
"I-I guess it d-didn't work..." I mumble, my lips and tongue tingling with a numbness.  
  
Tonks starts to nod, then stops abruptly, eyes widening considerably. "Harry!" is yelped about the same time a loud wail erupts into the air. 


	17. Epilogue: Blue's Moony

"_Blue moooon! You saw me standing alone_!"  
  
"Da-a-a-ad!"  
  
"_Without a dream in my heart! Without a love of my own_!"  
  
"Ugh! Ple-e-e-ease! Not with my friends here!"  
  
"_Blue moooon_!" said friends chorused in.  
  
"Oh Godric!" Blue heaved, clutching at his ears with his hands, wincing.  
  
A mussy haired individual appeared in the doorway, one arms spread as if he were going to receive a hug, the other clasped to his chest, while he attempted to sing. "_You heard me saying a prayer for, someone I could really care for_!"  
  
"Da-a-ad! Please! No!" Blue scrambled under his bed, and the man had to stop a moment to marvel that the boy could still fit.  
  
"_And then there suddenly appeared before me, the only one my arms will hold, I heard somebody whisper "please adore me," and when I looked, the moon had turned to gold_..." the bespectacled man continued.  
  
The two friends on top of the bed, stood up suddenly, hopping off, and reaching under the bed to grab the struggling boy. "_BLUE MOOOOON_!" they howled to Blue's horror.  
  
"You're evil! Every single last one of you! Evil-evil-evil!" Blue grumbled.  
  
"Supper's ready," the man announced with a grin, pivoting on his toes and disappearing through the door.  
  
"Aw...c'mon!" Loki snickered. "You're dad is so cool!"  
  
"Ergh...Only because you haven't woken up to that song for nearly fourteen years straight," Blue complained  
  
"But your dad is the famous Harry Potter!" Arty crowed.  
  
"Once again, you haven't woken up to him for nearly fourteen years in row!" Blue snickered, wriggling free of his friends' hands and starting for the door.  
  
Arty and Loki followed close behind, continuing their teasings until they got to the table. Harry and Hermione put the last few items on the table, Ron settling down in a chair, while offering a grin to the boys. Luna smiled sweetly to Arty, pulling his wand from behind his ear as he walked past. The wand was tossed to Neville, who put it on the inside pocket of his robes.  
  
"Artemus, watch that wand boy!" a rough voice growled. "I once knew a wizard who..."  
  
"Yes, yes, Moody, we all know. Arty will be more careful and...LOKI!" Bill yelped, making a grab for his son, as Loki dropped the contents of a small packet of powder into the potato salad. A pseudo-innocent grin was forced onto lips quickly as the boy dodged his father's hands and moved to hide behind Harry.  
  
"Blue, would you mind scraping that first layer off the potato salad, I'm not about to find out what the twins gave Loki this week," Harry sighed, pushing the boy behind him to a seat.  
  
Blue complied, grinningly, that had Harry horribly suspicious, though he made no move to stop whatever the boy was going to do. Let him have his fun, Harry thought, he is a Marauder after all.

* * *

Author's notes: What a wonderful run...I had fun, if not frustrating myself, then glaring idly at the screen. Really, thank you to all my reviewers, you kept me going throughout the story. And if you're wondering why I renamed Remus (yes, to satiate your curiosity, Blue is Remus), because I didn't think Harry would want to call him Moony, because that refers to his wolf. With the wolf gone, Harry decided to give Remus a new nickname, which would be Blue. Why Blue? _Blue Moooony_...::cough:: Well, at the time of his death/rebirth, there would've been two Remus', the dead one and the baby. What happens when there are two full moons in one month? Its called a blue moon.

And what else...Artemus, or Arty, is the son of Neville and Luna. Loki the son of Bill and Fleur. (why someone would name their son Loki is beyond me...that's just asking for trouble!) Harry took over the position as father, feeling it necessary when his last "family" was turned into a child.

So um...This is the part where I wave genially, and you leave. Of course, you may come back, because I might just have to write about Blue getting all set up at Hogwarts and growing up. nn


End file.
